For most of my life, my relationship to needles has been a matter of bracing for the absolute worst and reacting to them as if they definitely are. Once in a while, if a medical professional is coming at my anatomy in a spot where I’m not used to it, I will still yelp and yowl in horror. The standard pokes, however, I’ve come to cope with. I think the turning point was a blood sample I had to submit to when I was in my fifties but might as well …
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